


To Be Human (To Be Held)

by Leonawriter



Series: FF7 minifics [5]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Friendship, Post-Dirge of Cerberus, differing languages of affection, physical affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 13:30:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13741932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonawriter/pseuds/Leonawriter
Summary: There are things Genesis yearned for before he even knew what they were. It's remarkably easy to go without something like this for so long, so when it's offered he isn't sure how to react, or how to take it.





	To Be Human (To Be Held)

Back when he was a kid, Genesis could barely remember when he’d stopped going up to one of his parents and expecting that they manhandle him the same way that he saw the other children get picked up, held, or even carried by their parents.

His parents, he had known even then, hadn’t really known what to do with a young child, let alone _him._

His friendship with Angeal had introduced him to roughhousing, to pushes and shoves and climbing trees and pulling each other down, laughing with their hands around each other’s shoulders, Angeal tugging his hand when he wanted to show Genesis something, grabbing his arm or the back of his shirt to drag him away.

Physicality was still not something that had come naturally, but it was an improvement over essentially _nothing._

Induction into SOLDIER introduced him to yet more people his own age, people who didn’t treat him like he should always be kept _presentable_ , but although there was a certain novelty to it, he did find that he preferred to limit the people who invaded his personal space outside of a fight to the bare minimum.

Then he defected, and although for a while there were still a large number of people following his lead, asking ridiculous questions, telling bad jokes when they thought he couldn’t hear, he was still their commanding officer, they treated him differently than they would one of their own... and in time, the numbers dwindled. One by one, faces and voices that he had become accustomed to disappeared, replaced by his own, but it wasn’t his own, because they would wield different weapons, and await orders without question.

The space in his head grew crowded, full, pressed all the way from ear to ear with voices that were off just by a _fraction_.

And then they started to die off as well, silenced one by one and sometimes several all in a go. He tried to tell himself that it irritated him simply because that was one less fighter, one less spy, one less pair of hands.

Zack had carried him out of the caverns in Banora, and he had expected to feel shame, resentment, or frustration at the fact that he was unable to walk with his own two feet after having been pushed back into life. 

Instead, he had become intensely aware of the other SOLDIER against his senses. Warmth, breath, the way he adjusted his grip every so often. 

It wasn't odd to Zack. It wasn't strange, or out of the ordinary. He didn’t need to think about it.

And now here he was, years later, sat on the floor of what everyone called _Aerith’s_  church, even if he’d never seen the girl, let alone had any sort of connection with her, his knees drawn up to his chest, his one wing only doing half a job of curling around him as he stared at the sword that represented two of the people who had changed his life so drastically. 

Never had he so bitterly wanted the one thing that he  _could not have_.

Even when suffering from degradation, a cure had been a thing to strive for, that always seemed within reach as long as they could just gain this, or that, or work with this person - he had never wandered too far down the road of if the goddess had not given him back his health. And in the end, he'd gained what he'd set out for, even if he had realised far too much too little too late what he had  _missed._

His chest hurt, his hands clenched on old leather held together by new leather and new cloth and stitchings, his throat sore, eyes stinging.

"Excuse me? Mister?"

He froze, ready to shout to tell whoever had intruded to  _get lost_ , before remembering that he recognised this voice. So instead, his voice - raspy, because of  _course_ it was - responded with as much politeness as he could muster up. Which wasn't much, but it was better than  _nothing._

_Or so Angeal would have said._

"Marlene." Flat, blunt. The seven year old spent enough time in a bar playing wait staff, she could take his bad mood. "I suppose you brought someone with you."

It wasn't as though he wasn't allowed anywhere without someone to watch over his every move, but the area was, despite the presence of the healing water, generally not safe for a young girl to just go wandering around in as she pleased.

That, and despite trusting him not to repeat his past mistakes, he hardly believed they would trust him with a  _child._

"Cloud and Tifa are outside," she said, confirming his suspicions. "Cloud noticed you were in here but I snuck in while they were talking about... stuff."

Genesis reconsidered the girl, still without looking over at her. "You're going to get in trouble for that."

A rustle of clothes and hair, and he supposed she might have shrugged.

"I thought you looked sad, and... you are, aren't you? My daddy always feels better when he's had a hug. Tifa likes it too, but Cloud's still learning."

He couldn't help but snort at the mental images that brought up, given he'd met the girl's father, and the idea of  _Cloud_ bowing to her whims...

She sat next to him, the other side to where his wing was curled around him, just brushing against him, and he tensed.

"It's okay," Marlene said. "I don't think they'll be mad. And you can learn, too. Since you don't look like you've had much practice."

 _Practice hugging._ He'd say that it was ridiculous, and yet...  _it isn't as though she's wrong._


End file.
